Dirty White Candy, The Beginning, Book 1 (7 page)

I was calling the therapist in the morning.

****

It took a week for me to get into her office.
 
Every night I considered cancelling the appointment and every day, I sat wondering what it would do for me.
 
It was finally time.
 
I was in her waiting area, my heart pounding.

I trusted Stacy and she felt this woman could help me.

“Candy?” A silky voice came from behind me.

“That’s me,” I said standing, smoothing my shirt, or maybe I was drying the sweat off my palms?

“Come on in,” she said.

I shook as I took a seat in her small room.
 
It looked somewhat like a library with a fainting couch.
 
Yep, it look exactly like what I thought a therapists room should look like.

“My name is Linda.
 
So why don’t we start by telling me why you’re here.”
 
She leaned back and crossed her legs.
 
There was no notepad in her hand, no recorder.
 
She took a cup of coffee
 
and sipped while staring at me with her crystal blue eyes.

“My friend thought you could help me.”
 
I gulped.

She smiled and put her cup down on the table next to her.
 
“No, that’s not what I mean.
 
How can I help you?
 
What brings you to my office?”

I fidgeted with my skirt, looking down to avoid eye contact.

“Candy,” she said softly, “if you don’t speak, I can’t help.
 
This is a safe room.
 
You can talk about whatever you want to in here.
 
Only then, can I decide how to help you.”

I stared at her, having no idea what to say.

“Okay.
 
I’m a sex therapist.
 
So why don’t we talk about sex?
 
When is the last time you had any?” she asked.

“With myself, or another human?” I chuckled.
 
My face burned red hot.

“Masturbation is a form of sex.”

“Last night.” I answered.

“And when was the last time you had sex with someone other than yourself?”

“Can I have coffee or something?
 
If you have some vodka that would be great.”

Linda walked over to a desk in the corner that held a tray with coffee.
 
She poured a cup, adding a healthy dose of Irish Cream.
 
She handed me the cup.

“Now, let’s have it.
 
When’s the last time you fucked?”

My jaw dropped at her profanity.
 
It didn’t seem very professional.

“A year and a half.
 
I think.
 
But I only had sex with my husband.
 
Ex-husband.
 
He was my first and my last and he was lousy.
 
I’m so inexperienced and uneducated.
 
My girlfriend had a toy party with a demonstration that totally blew my mind and then she gave me a porno and dildos and I really need to get laid but right now, I just had my first real orgasm and I’m totally fucking lost and horny and alone and I definitely don’t want a relationship.
 
I just want to fuck like a rabbit and be left alone.”

I couldn’t believe the words that had just flown out of my mouth.
 
I covered my mouth with my right hand for a split second, then removed it, sipping at my coffee, which seemed like a more natural thing to do.

“Well, now we’re getting somewhere.”
 
Linda nodded.

I spent the next fifteen minutes admitting that I’d never even received oral sex let alone anything beyond missionary position was not in my repertoire.
 

Linda walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a disclaimer.

“Read it.
 
Read the whole thing.
 
It says you agree to be touched, fucked, manipulated and evaluated.
 
If you agree to this, I can help you.”

“I thought you were a shrink?” I said in astonishment.

“I do not appreciate that word.
 
I am a certified and licensed therapist, but I’ve concentrated my practice solely to sexuality and problems revolving around sexuality.
 
I do a little therapy, sometimes I am a sexual surrogate, but mostly, I do whatever it takes to help people become sexually free.”
 
Linda stood, looking down at me.
 
“I’m going to give you ten minutes to read that document.
 
I will be back.
 
If you sign it, I’ll give you further instructions.
 
If you don’t, today’s session is free and we shall part ways.
 
Do not skip the non-disclosure section.
 
It’s important for you to remember not to discuss our sessions.”

She didn’t wait for questions, she simply left.

I stared at the paper for a moment considering if I wanted her help or not, and wondering what that might entail.
 
I read the document.
 
I read it a second time.
 
I thought about Stacy and she had my trust.
 
Holding my breath, I signed it.

Linda reentered the room after a few more minutes, scooped up the document, tearing a copy off for me to keep.
 

“Very well then,” she handed me an envelope.
 
“Be here tomorrow at six in the evening.
 
Don’t be late.
 
The instructions for you are in there.
 
Do not read it until you get home.”

She held out her hand to shake mine.
 
I took it.

“Tomorrow then,” she said.
 

“Thank you.”
 
I didn’t know what else to say.
 

Arriving at the office late wasn’t something my company usually accepted.
 
If it wasn’t for my impeccable record, I’d have been fired.

Olivia, my new assistant followed me into my office.
 
She handed me a stack of messages and a fresh cup of coffee.
 
I loved her already.

“Dude!
 
If you’re going to be late, just let me know.
 
I’ve been fielding messages from your douchebag boss all morning.
 
I told him you had an appointment.”

“What did he say?” I asked, skimming through messages.

“He kept asking questions, so I told him you had a girlie appointment.”

I looked up at her.
 
You could have parked a semi in my mouth.
 
“You didn’t!”

“I did.
 
He didn’t ask any more questions after that!”
 
she laughed.
 
“Hey,” she said looking at the horrific expression cemented on my face, “don’t fret.
 
Answers like that to a man will stop questions every time.
 
He doesn’t want to hear it and he knows he can’t tell you to make those appointments on your own time.”

“Uh, thanks.”
 
My knees felt weak.

“No problem.
 
Next time you’re going to be late just send me text so I can cover.”
 
She scooped up my blackberry off the desk and programmed her cell phone number in my phone, sending herself a text from it so she’d have my personal number.

I wanted to protest.

“Now, I finished that proposal that was on my desk.
 
It’s in your inbox.
 
Take a peek and let me know what you think.
 
I can make any changes you need.
 
And if I haven’t said so, thank you.
 
It feels awesome to be working again and so far, I’m really digging this job.”

“I uh, had a personal thing this morning.” I didn’t know what else to say and clearly, I wasn’t going to tell her the truth.

“Just put “yoga” in your calendar.
 
I’ll know that means to cover for you.
 
Does that work?”
 
She was serious.
 
The look on her face said as much.
 
She was all business.

“Since I don’t take yoga, that will work.”
 
I took a deep breath.
 
I really adored her so much more than the last assistant.
 
“Thank you so much for covering for me.”

She grinned, gave me a wave and went back to her desk.

I finally had a moment to myself.
 
I gazed out the window to the city below.
 
There had to be a lot of fuckable people down there and I was stuck here.
 
Marketing wasn’t sexy.
 
A job, wasn’t sexy.
 
I wasn’t sexy.

Totally unable to quash my curiosity, I opened the envelope.
 
The paper inside contained very specific instructions:
 
1. Be certain your genitalia is clean shaven or waxed.
 
2.
 
Be willing to speak open sexually.
 
3.
 
Be willing and ready to have sex.
 
4. Do not discuss the meetings as per the non-disclosure statement.
 
5. Get plenty of rest the night before.

My mind could not absorb the words on the paper.
 
I retreated to the coffee room.
 
What had I just signed myself up for?
 
I wanted to call Stacy and interrogate her, but I’d just signed a legal document stating I would not discuss it.

I picked at a muffin, my mind lost in thought.

“Hey, Candy?”
 
Olivia was standing in the doorway to the coffee room.

“Olivia, I’m sorry, do you need me?”
 
I tossed the muffin in the garbage.
 
I didn’t like poppy seeds anyway.

“Do you want to grab a drink after work?”

Her face showed signs of concern.
 
Her brow was wrinkled and her eyes were partially squinted, but there was a hopeful tone in her voice.
 
I didn’t have any other plans on a Friday night.

“Sure.
 
Why not?”
 
I offered a weak smile and headed back to my office.

My mind so full, it seemed like only minutes before Olivia was knocking on my door.

“You ready?” she asked.

“Ready?”

“Drinks?
 
You and me?
 
Work is over.”
 
She pointed at her watch.

“Damn.
 
Where did the day go?” I asked standing up and closing my laptop.
 
Slinging my purse over my shoulder I looked up at Oliva.
 
She had changed into jeans.
 
“Uh, I’m a little overdressed.
 
I don’t really carry a change of clothes around.”

“That’s okay.
 
I don’t mind.
 
We can go wherever you want.
 
If they don’t like my jeans, they can kiss my ass.”
 
She giggled and walked over, hooking my arm and pulling me.
 
“Let’s go wherever you go.”

I submitted, taking her to my favorite martini bar.

“Holy shit!
 
I can see why you like to come here.
 
The bartender is fucking hot!”
 
She pushed her boobs up in her shirt and sashayed up to the bar.